Trick or Treat, Vegas Style
by Sorsha711
Summary: Halloween in Vegas isn't always fun and games… just ask Brass. Reflections and introspection about the Graveyard Shift after a night of more than a few horrors.


Trick or Treat, Vegas Style

Author: Sorsha_711  
Fandom/Pairing: CSI; references to Catherine/Vartann; Brass/? implied  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence  
Disclaimer: A quick check of my bank account should prove I'm not making anything off of writing my stories. Sigh! Anything you recognize belongs to the good people that bring us CSI.  
Summary: Halloween in Vegas isn't always fun and games… just ask Brass. Reflections and introspection about the Graveyard Shift after a night of more than a few horrors.

Trick or Treat, Vegas Style

Brass blew out a frustrated breath as he watched David Phillips zip a body bag closed. The face it covered was heartbreakingly young… even baby-faced. The sight of the closed bag didn't make the reality of what it contained any less disturbing.

It had been a long, rough shift, 24-hours and counting based on a quick glance at his watch. It had ended as badly as it began. The only positive he could find in the whole tragedy was that the ones responsible for the carnage were off the streets… either on their way to lockup or the hospital. Sadly, one was on the way to the morgue. Much as he would have preferred to have all eight of his perps safely stashed in jail awaiting trial, he silently admitted to himself it could have been a lot worse if they hadn't caught a break. He had no doubts the gang would still have been in rampage mode if they hadn't been stopped… or that the level of violence had been escalating fast… terrifyingly fast.

The first call had come in less than an hour after his shift took the watch on Saturday, Halloween Eve… the report of a street fight in middle of a tree-lined cul-de-sac of an affluent neighborhood of the City. He hadn't left his desk… there wasn't anything all that unusual about teens fighting on Mischief Night, until the third, seemingly unrelated call came in less than ninety minutes later. That had been the first of three violent home invasions. It had been several hours before they had realized the cases were tied to the same gang.

From what they had uncovered thus far, they had developed a working theory of the crimes… a group of bored youth had decided Halloween was an excuse to let loose their inner monsters. They had terrorized and brutalized everyone that crossed their path… or who had the bad luck to be home when they came knocking. The quick response of one of his patrols had allowed him to flood the area around the final act in their reign of horrors with over a dozen units. A brief gun battle had ensued, ending in the only way it logically could.

/How the hell did these little bastards think they were going to out gun that many cops? Shit… we're lucky to only have the one of them in a body bag!/ he silently ranted. /At least, none of the bystanders were killed in the crossfire… no serious injuries to them or any of my people. The press is going to be all over my ass wanting to know why we have a dead kid… more than a dozen people in the hospital thanks to this insanity./

A tired voice to his left broke into his angry thoughts. "The last of the wounded have been transported… David is ready to take the DB."

Nodding, Jim asked, "You through taking statements?"

"The witnesses have all been interviewed… nothing unexpected in what they had to say," Lew Vartann replied. "They're all consistent on the key points… the kid driving the Expedition opened up on Cameron and all hell broke loose after that."

Frowning at the mental image, Brass demanded, "Any of the dashboard cams survive the exchange? Be nice to have footage to support that. A dead teen… the public will want proof a bunch of kids are responsible for this carnage. IAB will be all over this once we secure the scene and I let them take over."

"Three for sure… a couple of the others took some hits to the windshield and dash, but the cameras may still work. I have some uniforms sitting on those units until CSI secures them," Vartann supplied. "The rest of the units are shot to hell along with everything else in the vicinity. These kids were armed to the teeth. Good thing their aim was crap or we'd have had a bloodbath."

Looking over at the younger detective, Brass nodded. "Yeah… that's about sums it up. Let's get this wrapped up and leave Mitch to supervise CSI's security detail. I'd like to get back to the house and try to get some answers from the three that weren't wounded… assuming their parents haven't already lawyered up for their kids. Probably be a few hours before we can talk to the ones they transported to the ER. One looked bad."

Lew sighed heavily, something he had been doing a lot lately. "EMT's weren't real hopeful on that one making it, so the body count may go up."

"Out of our hands at this point," Jim acknowledged. Thirty plus years as a cop and the reality of pointless, needless death always produced a sick, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Some days, he was secretly amazed he still managed to feel anything.

A faint nod proceeded, "Sam rode back to the station with the three we collared. It's just you and me left other than the uni's. Catherine's crew is spread out across town finishing processing earlier scenes. Greg and Sara are handling the scene alone for now."

Brass' eyes narrowed as he scanned the area looking for Greg Sanders. "Is Sanders holding up? Got to be a reminder of the mob that attacked him a few years back."

Running a weary hand over his neck, Vartann admitted, "So far he seems to be handling it better than I am. I mean… who the hell raised these animals? The scene over on S. Winchester… the whole family got a beat down, even a nine year old kid!"

"Yeah… the one in Green Valley was just as bad," Jim offered. "The father opened the door thinking they were trick-or-treaters. After knocking the family around, they trashed the house… set the place on fire. The Solways were lucky their neighbors heard the screams and called it in. They were locked inside a pantry and would have all burned alive if Akers and Santiago hadn't gotten there when they did."

Vartann's tired gaze flicked back in his direction. "How are Andy and Steph doing? I heard they went to the ER with the family."

"They breathed in a lot of smoke and have some nasty burns to show for their efforts, but everybody should recover," Jim supplied, his gaze still fixed on the CSI. "I'm putting them both in for special commendations for valor."

"From what I've heard, they deserve it," Lew acknowledged. "Everybody was talking about it after it went down. It gave a lot of people a boost to hear something had gone right for the good guys. Not much was too positive at that point."

"You can say that again," Jim muttered. "They spread us out over a large area… the stolen SUVs from the first house let them keep ahead of us most of the night."

"Willing to bet they targeted their victims… all the families had kids about the same age," Lew groused. "Maybe school grudges… fight over a girl… something stupid like that set them off."

"Makes as much sense as anything else at this point." Rubbing a stiff hand over his face, he ordered, "Head back to the station and start writing up your reports. I'll stay and wait for Catherine or Nick to get here. Scene like this… we need to make sure one of the shift supervisors is here before we hand it over to the uni's. I don't want IAB crawling up my ass for not following procedures to the letter."

"I can stay…"

Breaking in before his subordinate could put a name to the reason Jim had elected to be the one to stay at the scene, he insisted, "Naw, I got it. Head to the house…"

"I can handle…"

"No doubts about that," Brass reassured, determined to keep the situation on a purely professional level. "You're exhausted, so get a head start on the paperwork and I'll grab you and Sam when I get back so we can divide up the interviews… assuming we're allowed to talk to our perps. I'm betting they all invoke before we get there and we're left to wonder what the hell caused eight teens to go on a rampage. I doubt one of them is over 16."

"I'd peg them all at 14, 15," Lew calculated, his shoulders slumping as he gave up arguing. "OK… I'll see you back at the house."

Sighing, Jim watched Vartann make his way through the thick crowd ringing the perimeter of the crime scene. Ignoring the reporters shouting questions at him, Brass moved over to his car so he would have a place to lean while he waited. The events of the preceding night had produced a flood of adrenalin in his bloodstream and he was beginning to feel the after effects of the sudden, violent end to the investigation. As his body chemistry settled back to normal, he knew exhaustion and sore muscles would quickly start to dull his senses.

Rubbing distractedly at his neck, he silently complained, /I'm getting too damned old for shifts like this. I used to get a rush from the chase… the urgency and adrenalin. Now… not so much./

Taking note of the two CSI's progress, he was relieved to see that Greg seemed to be calm and focused on the task at hand. In many ways, he considered Sanders the most dependable and stable of those left from the old days of Grissom and his team. /Never would have dreamed I'd think that back in the day! Sara looks to be holding up too… she's finally accepted her limits, thank God! Something we all need to do. I just wish their boss would do the same./

That thought took him back to the issue he and Vartann had been skirting… Catherine Willows. Sadly, the younger man had made some short-sighted decisions in hopes of furthering his relationship with CSI's night shift supervisor. Lew had been heard making comments that make their affair common knowledge in the small world of Clarke County law enforcement. Some things were best kept out of the office and, while a detective sleeping with a CSI was hardly unexpected and didn't violate personnel policy, it was a distraction when explicit comments about their sex lives were part of the mix.

Some of those comments had accompanied critical digs directed at Brass and their fellow officers. That had generated hard feelings among the rank and file… especially the statements that tried to make Catherine the hero of a couple of investigations. In both cases, her role had either been limited or of questionable merit, so Vartann's attempt to spin them to suit his agenda hadn't won him any friends. Many members of the force blamed CSI for the death of Franklin Clarke since Catherine had been the one that had gone over his head without even giving him the courtesy of a warning to get Nate Haskell brought to Vegas. Nick's failure to give him appropriate backup had only made the situation worse.

The fallout from the Haskell decision might well cost Burdick his job in the coming election. /Nothing endears a politician to the public like bringing a serial killer into town on a weekend bender!/ Jim mocked. /OK, the son-of-a-bitch gave us a few tidbits, but I'd wager big money that he'd have done the same if we had gone to him and played his game on safer ground. Ray was his real target… getting at him was his objective, not helping us find Jekyll. Ray's damn lucky to be alive dropping his guard like he did! Langston's still a rookie and I'm the only one that seems to remember that!/

/If they were hell bent on ripping off the plot of _Silence of the Lambs_, at least they should have gone with 'Clarisse visits Lector in jail', not the 'spring the monster from jail' crap. Hell, that didn't even work in the damned movie! I'm getting damned sick of CSI thinking they run the investigations… acting like we're their errand boys!/ Still angry and bitter over that whole debacle, he couldn't stop the thought, /Shit! Been down this road too many times… told them it was a disaster waiting to happen the morning we had it out in my office! Cath's trying to rewrite history… armchair quarterback my ass!/

Clamping down on his simmering anger, he refocused on the state of affairs /no pun intended/ in the graveyard shift.. Sadly, he had to admit that the old divisions between the police and the CSI had resurfaced in recent years. Brass tended to trace the change to a combination of factors… Grissom's departure, Catherine's promotion, and, perhaps most significantly, the arrival of Ray Langston.

Reaching inside his car for a bottle of water, Jim mused, /For all his quirkiness, Gil was a steadying influence on the other members of his team. Catherine has no clue of how to set that example. She's too consumed by her insecurities to realize how reckless she sometimes is… the stigma of being a former stripper… Sam Braun's unacknowledged kid have done a number on her self-esteem no matter how hard she tries to deny it. She tends to over-compensate without thinking it through… and Lew tried win points by stroking her ego. He was a fool to let anyone hear that shit… she's the only one that didn't see if for what it was./

Shifting his thoughts to Langston, Jim groused, /'Dr. Ray' is an arrogance son-of-a bitch… typical doctor. I warned Ecklie his decision to promote him on the strength of a few classes was a bad move… was setting us up for problems. Hell, being a hospital pathologist doesn't make him field ready. It beats me how he has the rest of the team deferring to him… including Nick and Catherine. He's a lone wolf. That's dangerous… especially when you consider his arrogance and lack of experience./

In the privacy of his thoughts, Jim admitted he didn't like the man… or trust him for that matter. The CSI didn't respect chain of command… /hell, he didn't respect much but his own opinion as far as I can see./ The rookie CSI wanted to run everything… /unless it's a case he feels is beneath his 'stature' like those robbery scenes he was supposed to be processing ALONE. Off running down leads on Jekyll without backup or oversight!/

/Cath's insecurities and his arrogance… their recklessness. Not a good combination. I still can't believe she insisted he be video linked to our meeting with Conrad after the funeral bombing. Nick wasn't even included, but 'Dr. Ray' had to be there from his freaking hospital bed!/ Jim fumed. /That was total bullshit! Hell, he should have been on bed rest… screw his demands to be included. What the hell was he going to do… get up out of bed with a hole in his gut and start working the scene?/

Taking another sip of his water, he admitted, /In retrospect, I should have refused to let him have his laptop… but he'd have gotten it one way or the other. Never entered my mind he'd expect to be consulted… lead CSI's part of the damned investigation. Man's brilliant, but his arrogance is going to get someone killed!/

/Ecklie needs to back off and stop interfering every time I try to reign the lab in… get control over their behavior,/ Jim ranted. /Just because he ran the lab… I'm shift commander, but that asshole keeps sticking his nose in everything. Hell, he's a political whore… scared Cath still has some sway over Braun's cronies. Any she had, she blew on the Haskell powerplay. He needs to back the hell off and let me do my job… get CSI back in line with their guns holstered. CSI's aren't cops, damnit!/

Feeling his back begin to ache as the tension that had lodged between his shoulder blades caused sore muscles to twinge, Jim shifted his position and took another look to see how the processing of the scene was progressing. Seeing nothing to indicate anything required his attention, he went back to his musings. /What the hell was Lew thinking to suggest they move in together in the middle of the hallway at the lab? Hell, everybody knows Hodges is a gossip. I heard about it within a few hours and I was probably one of the last to know./

/Then, he follows that bonehead move with a demand for an answer in earshot of most of her staff and a half-dozen officers,/ Jim scoffed. /I've known since I was a kid… you have to ask, you're not going to like the answer. He should have spared himself the pain and at least waited until they didn't have an audience… Cath isn't known for pulling her punches. Everybody knows voices travel in the lab, but he was too obsessed to consider the facts and act professionally./

/I need to keep a close eye on any scene they end up working together,/ Jim resolved. /Hell, he's a loose cannon… could seriously screw the pooch again. I've already told Cath to send one of her team to his scenes to avoid problems, but she may have no choice if she's the only one available. After the way Lew froze during that stakeout at the hotel… almost got her killed… shit, I thought he'd blown any chances of getting with her after that, but they hit the sheets a few days later. Really appreciate her need to share that one! Some days, Cath…/

A mental wince reminded him of his own Cath 'ah-ha' moment… "…you're not my only friend on the force…". Jim had naively thought that he'd meant more to her than that… maybe not happily ever after more, but more. He'd ignored the uneasy feeling there might be other men in her life, but… it had hurt like hell to have it confirmed. He hadn't been able to resist poking around to see if she meant friend or **friend**. That on top of the problems with his daughter… it was a miracle he hadn't lost his badge.

A small, petty part of his makeup felt the need to indulge in an evil grin that Vartann had fared no better. A slightly larger part of him felt a certain amount of sympathy for the other man's embarrassment and probable pain at being told she didn't want to get serious… that great sex and a good time was enough for her. The largest part of him simply breathed a sigh of relief that he was finally completely over her … that Catherine no longer had the power to hurt him with her selfish behavior. Lew had been willing to settle for what she offered in hopes she'd eventually change her mind… kidding himself in the process that less than what he needed and deserved would be enough even if she didn't.

For years he'd wondered if he'd done the right thing in ending their own affair when she'd come knocking on his door a few days after the mess with Ellie had been resolved. It wasn't like he had a long line of beautiful women waiting in the wings to take her place in his bed… and the sex had been good. At the time, he'd told himself… and her, it had been a matter of her not being there when he'd needed her support, but that had been only part of the reason.

His wife had cheated on him… hell, Ellie was proof of that. He had cheated to get back at her and… Bringing down the corrupt heart of the Newark PD hadn't help wash away the sense of failure and disappointment that was smothering him… disappointment in Nancy, disappointment in his fellow officers, but mostly disappointment in himself for his own behavior. Those feelings had clung like leeches for the first twenty years he'd called Vegas home.

Looking back, he realized he'd had no choice but to end things… it had been too much like his prior failures to accept. Catherine was too much like her father… too much like his ex, for his peace of mind. In retrospect, he understood that **his** making that decision had been the act that helped him start putting his life back on track… allowed him to regain a measure of his self-respect. His A-game as a detective had followed. Slowly, the slightly sleazy air that had clung to him from his days in Newark Vice began to recede. For good or bad, he was his own man again… demons and all, and he knew it.

That knowledge had allowed him to face Tracy Bell in front of a room full of hostile witnesses so she could scream and rail… tear him apart if that was what **she** needed. It had allowed him to survive the crushing guilt that even her gentle and gracious forgiveness hadn't assuaged. It had allowed him to look Rita Nettles in the eye and hold her accountable for her lies… to him, as well as, the ones that had gotten her husband killed. It had allowed him to risk forever alienating Ellie with his repeated attempts to get her safe and off the street… clean. It had also given him the strength to face the 'what might have been' in Annie Kramer's eyes. It was what allowed him to get out of bed each day.

Hearing his name called, he pushed away from the side of his car to go back to work. Rehashing his life, the problems plaguing the nightshift… his opinions of his staff would have to wait until he was done for the night. On a positive note, he realized he's been fortunate to keep the fact he'd had an affair with Catherine off the grid. Wounded pride healed better without an audience. Knowing the metamorphosis he'd undergone in the wake of their breakup confused most of those that knew him was pure bonus in his estimation.

Besides, he had a girlfriend he was nuts about… one that was nuts about him in return. That thought caused a faint softening of his tired features, though years of hard-won experience managed to keep it from turning into a grin. /Hell, I'm almost 60 and I have a girlfriend! Girlfriend? Lover sounds too crass. I didn't think Nick would be able to keep his game face when I dropped the 'g' word in the middle of an interrogation a few weeks back. Now he breaks into a big cheesy grin every time I mention her name!/

"Yeah, Mitch… what ya need?"

A/N - WEG! Nope, no name for his girlfriend… yet! And, yes, I freely admit I was venting over some of the plot/character twists from the last two seasons, but… come on! Some of it has left me muttering, "They have to be kidding, right?" over and over again! Mostly, I wrote this fic because I saw a chance to pull together the bits and pieces of Jim and see how they fit. What do you think of this take on Capt. Brass?

I apologize for the long delay in updating my WEP, _By Design_. Between work, a crashed PC, and back problems… I am working on the next chapter. Hopefully, I'll have an update soon.

Feedback appreciated.

10-31-2010


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